


Half Remembered Truths

by cyanidefaery



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I think there is more to him than meets the (third) eye, these are my thoughts on Cecil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:01:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanidefaery/pseuds/cyanidefaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is an important part of Night Vale.</p>
<p>Here's why...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Remembered Truths

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so I haven't written anything in like, 10 years. 
> 
> Apologies for rustiness or general crappiness. 
> 
> If you are kind, and feel I could use a gentle guiding hand, please let me know.

Cecil does not always remember, but when he does it is this: as long as Cecil is here, then Night Vale is here.

He can recall sometimes the faces he has worn, the bodies he has resided in. Always with the same mellifuous voice emanating from within. 

He dreams in his sleep (or, what can be considered sleep, after his broadcast duties are done) of standing in the middle of streets, feeling the hot sun beating down on him, the sweat beading on his brow, between his shoulders, in the small of his back. He dreams of the gritty air he breathes in as he stands with declarations in hand, proclaiming to the residents about what they should or should not notice. 

He likes his radio show. He can drink coffee, and he doesn't get bugs stuck in his throat, even if he does have to cope with interns and The Station Manager. 

Very little has changed over the centuries in this town. The dog park has not always existed, the Pizzeria was once a very fine bakery, and the Council has always had its interests in the town.   
The Mayors have always been a little bit unhinged, though. 

He can, sometimes, in the dark dim recesses of consciousness recall the day that the town was founded. How they brought him into being with their arcane rites and blood sacrifices.   
Cecil remembers the shock of being forced into a body, with all the electrical impulses, staccato rhythm of heart and lung, and chemical processes that make up a corporeal body. He knows the exact timbre of scream that the vessel that was to hold him that first time gave. How each time a body fails, he is reborn in a new one. They still scream, but it the cry of a bewildered infant now. 

He is not chained here. He likes it here. He has purpose here. He is the voice of Night Vale.


End file.
